Clipped
by Clove1113
Summary: She tried to convince herself that she wanted to let go. But deep down she knew she was lying to herself. She could never let go and she could never want to let go at all. Not of him, and not of love itself. Because she loved loving too much.


"The kind of love that can bring the world crashing down or raise it up in flames of glory."-

-The Mortal Instruments.

Disclaimer: I don't own the hunger games, Susan Collins does.

She tried to convince herself that she wanted to let go. But deep down she knew she was lying to herself. She could never let go and she could never want to let go at all. Not of him, and not of love itself. Because she loved loving too much.

To Love Love Itself:

"Cloe?" He asked.

"Hm?" Clove drowsily lifted her head from his shoulder.

"Do you want dinner?" He motioned to a freshly delivered sponsor ship-gifted meal of warm bread and some kind of rich soup thing.

"Not really, let's pretend like we're back home." She got that Clovish sparkle of mischief in her dark eyes. "Remember that day when you were like 14 or something, and you stabbed me with a palm frond?" She asked with a smirk.

"Only because you practically jumped on the thing." He complained half amused and half impatient.

"We were playing on that hill-" She began.

"Where we weren't supposed to be." Cato interjected.

"Whatever. You're missing the point." She waved a scarred hand at him. "And we had a sword fight with the longest palm fronds we could find."

"And I totally won." Cato cut in again.

"Did not." Clove muttered under her breath. "Anyway," she glared at him, "we were about to go back down to the training center, and you jumped down first-"

"And I was still holding the palm frond-"

"And I jumped and my wrist landed on the stupid thing-" She smiled. They both smiled.

"Not _my_ fault." Cato said, now as caught up in the story as she was.

"Was to!" She teased. "And I still have a scar!" She laughed, and for once there was true humor in the utterance.

"Show me then." Cato said, joining her laughter with his own.

"Fine." She stuck her nose in the air and haughtily held out her wrist to him revealing a tiny dot on the inside of her pale arm. The humor drains from her eyes, and is replaced with contentment. "I hope it never fades." She breathed. "Until the day I die." Cato saw what no one else could, that she wanted that day to come soon, for him, so he could live.

"Who says you'll ever die?" He asked sharply.

"Me." There was no sadness in the young woman's voice, no self-pity or grief. Just a flat disinterest that scared her lover as much as the thought of him dying scared her.

"Well, you're wrong." The fight seemed to leave Cato even as he spoke, and when she replied, he couldn't bring himself to argue any longer.

"We'll see." She yawned. She looked up at the stars, at the moon, and wished she could fly like a bird, she would soar, yet would she dance like a humming bird, or dive like an eagle. She figured she would never know, for as much as Cato gave her wings, no one had yet taught her to fly.

Was it so much to ask to fly? All her life the weight of the games, of her family, and herself had held her firmly down. Though now, she shook her wings free of them. Who cared if she lived or died. Just for this minute, this hour, this flight, could she not care? Her family, well at least most of her family, was dead. And if she was going to die, who cared who she was for the rest of her life. So she spread her wings to fly. But there was still a weight on her back. Or was it in her heart? She couldn't tell. And this weight she couldn't push away, because however much she pretended to hate loving him, love was always a feeling that she loved, and she would never stop loving him. So she had made her choice. She could fly away as a bird of ice, the bird everyone seemed to think she was. Except him. Or, she could stay, a bird who had clipped her own wings, because she loved loving too much to let go. And she did.

Author's note: It's been like two months. I know. I'm sorry! I hope you liked this slightly more, thoughtful-random-I don't know-what's a good word? Story, so let me know, and how did you like the quote at the top? I know that the top part was run on, but there reminiscing and that part was just to get to know there deeper feelings in a lighter way. Also check out my other stories. Please!

/Gia

P.S. Special thanks to catchingfire75 because my spell check isn't working, so when I send this in like 5 minutes, you're likely to hate me. But thanks! In advance…


End file.
